


Christmas Magic

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Based on the Hallmark Movie, F/M, Fluff, Mechanic Dean Winchester, dad dean winchester, the character that dies doesn't stay dead, there's a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: When the reader is in a serious car accident, she learns that she must help a local mechanic save his autoshop before she can move on to the afterlife.  Can she help him and his family save the shop?  When she gets close to the family, will she be able to let go and move on?





	1. Chapter 1

You grabbed your notebook, the pages filled with plans, drawings, and millions of other little details for the Talbot company Christmas party that you were planning for the upcoming weekend.  For years you’d been working toward this goal.  You had started as just a simple planner in a large, corporate office, but quickly worked your way up the ranks to earn a solid clientele.  Once your contract was up with that company, your real dreams had begun.

Since opening your own event planning business six months ago, this was your biggest client yet, the biggest party you’d been responsible for ever in your career.  A one hundred thousand dollar budget with over five hundred guests?

To say you were stressed would be an understatement.

The good thing was that everything was falling into place like the beautiful puzzle it was, the party only mere days away at this point.  The catering was completely done, food being shipped to the elaborate mansion the next day for the team of highly skilled chefs to begin their preparations.  The mansion was currently being decorated, off-white holiday décor in the midst of being hung all around you.  The space was beautiful – large and open with tons of mirrors, giving the main ballroom a never-ending feel.  The guest list was finalized, RSVPs streaming in to your website by the minute.  This was going to be the holiday party of the year, or so you kept reassuring yourself.

If this party came off without a hitch, it would definitely put you and your solo event planning company on the map, maybe earning you enough additional clients that you could hire a permanent team to work for you.  The owner of the Talbot company, Bela Talbot, was already immensely impressed with your work and had given you a bonus check ahead of time, when the party wouldn’t even be occurring for a few more days.  She had promised you that if things kept going as smoothly as they were, you’d get an even bigger bonus afterward and she’d swear by your event planning skills to all of her CEO friends around the city.

That was the ‘in’ you were aiming for, anything to prove to the world that you were the best at what you did.

It was now late into the evening, but an unending number of late nights was what came with the life of an event planner.  You hurried around the room, checking things off of the endless to-do lists that you had in your binder.  

You checked with Margie, the mansion staff manager, getting the final list of mansion employees who would be working the party.  You talked with Carl, the security man stationed at the door, confirming the number of security working the parking lot, outside of the building, and in plainclothes inside the party.  You stopped here and there to advise your decorators on different things – move that greenery higher, move that tree over a few feet, don’t get too close to the wall with the candles.

Before you knew it, it was nearly midnight and time for everyone to retire for the night before you all would return bright and early the following day.  Even more last minute touches would happen tomorrow, and you were confident that there would be time to get everything perfect before the weekend.

You said goodbye to everyone as they left, making sure to dismiss everyone by name.  You had found in your career that having a personal relationship with every single person you hired made all the difference, so you studied their names and faces religiously before anyone came to work for you, just to be sure that everyone felt welcome and appreciated.

Finally you and Carl, the security man, were the last two in the building.  He locked the door behind you, jolly smile on his face.

“You have a good night, Miss Y/L/N,” Carl said, walking the few paces toward your car with you.  

“Thanks, Carl, you too. Tell Shelly I’m sorry for keeping you so late,” you replied, unlocking your car and climbing in.  Carl laughed and swatted his hand in the air in dismissal, but you knew he appreciated your comment.

You made sure Carl was climbing into his car before you put yours in reverse, turning out of the driveway and into the street.  Soft snowflakes began to fall as you left, immediately putting a smile on your face. You loved winter, you loved the snow. Snow and Christmas would always go hand-in-hand in your mind, so the fact that it was snowing as you were preparing for your biggest party ever seemed like a good omen.

The mansion where you were hosting the party was just outside of Mount Vernon, a suburb of New York City, where you lived.  You pointed your car south toward home and your hands began driving practically on auto-pilot, still ticking through to-do lists in your mind.

The street lights were bright as you drove, snowflakes illuminated in their glow, but that was New York City for you.  The city that never sleeps was a great place for you to be an event planner, as you had an endless number of nights and venues to fill your time with clients wanting parties.  

You drove on the bridge over the Harlem River and into Manhattan, weaving your way through streetlights and cabs filled with tourists.  While your brain was still whirring with details of the Talbot party, your eye was drawn to the people on the street, dressed in festive outfits and obviously ready for the holidays, enjoying the snowflurries around them before it landed and melted on the street.

You were smiling at a young girl spinning in circles, red coat wrapped around her body and snow-white scarf trailing around her, before something jolted you and all went black.


	2. Chapter 2

You woke up, confused when you felt snow and grass under your skin.  You opened your eyes but it was still dark outside, so it took a moment and quite a bit of blinking for you to see in the low light.  Above you was a tree, moonlight shining through the branches and the trunk illuminated slightly by a light to your left.

When you turned your head to look at where the light was coming from, you saw one of the familiar grey lampposts of Central Park.  You sat up, trying to orient yourself and figure out why you were laying on the ground in Central Park.

You looked around again, eyes drawn to a bench just past the streetlamp.  There was a man sitting there, wearing a tan trench coat and surrounded by pigeons.  He didn’t look homeless, which was always something you were nervous about late-night in New York City.  You’d taken your fair share of self-defense classes, but being alone in the big city with anyone out and about that you didn’t know always made you nervous, no matter your training.

As you continued to look at the man, you felt a sense of peace wash over you.  You weren’t sure exactly what caused it, for you were still far enough away from him that it wasn’t any recognizable traits that put you at ease, but you felt it all the same.  Trusting your gut, you figured you may as well ask him if he saw how you got here.

You slowly stood up, patting down your coat and pockets as you did so.  You were uninjured, but you seemed to have lost your keys, wallet, phone; you had nothing helpful in the least to get you to your car or apartment without asking for someone’s help or walking the couple miles there.

It was too late to be walking that far at night, so toward the man you went.

When you got close enough, you saw that he was talking quietly with the pigeons, not feeding them as you had thought.  You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it seemed as though he was having a two-way conversation, saying a few words and then listening for a moment before saying something else.  

Your footsteps paused, wondering if the man, while maybe not homeless, was instead crazy and you shouldn’t approach him alone in the park.  Before you could make a decision or turn around, though, he looked up and met your eyes.

A smile fell onto his face, crows feet forming around his eyes.  You couldn’t help smiling back at him, taking a couple more tentative steps.

The man stood, pigeons scattering, and held his hands out in greeting.

“Y/N, I’m glad that you finally woke,” he said simply, confusing you with the fact that 1 – he knew your name, and 2 – he had apparently been waiting for you to wake up.

You didn’t answer, words caught in your throat.  It didn’t matter – the man in the tan trench coat continued to speak.

“This is a beautiful place for you to have chosen for this conversation.  I know that you didn’t consciously choose it, but I am often pleasantly surprised at the beautiful places people feel safe.  Central Park is magnificent, especially in winter and at night.”

The man looked around, making you copy him and do the same.  He was right – it was beautiful.  The moonlight was making the snow on the ground shimmer with light, the few plants poking through the snow seemed greener than they should.  There were holiday lights on some of the trees in the distance, creating a cheery scene from far away.

Your eyes went back to the man, who was looking at you once again.  “What’s going on?  Who are you, and why do you know my name?  Why am I here?”

He nodded, a tight-lipped smile settling on his handsome face.  “Ah, yes.  I apologize. I know you because I was sent here to guide you.  Y/N Y/L/N, you were in a terrible crash this evening.  I’m here to guide you to what comes next.”

Your mouth fell open in shock, mind whirring back to what you’d been doing.  You left the mansion for the Talbot party, driving back into Manhattan in the beautiful snowfall.  There were the lights of the city all around you, the people in the streets, the spinning girl in the red coat.

The jolt and darkness.

Tears filled your eyes without you realizing it, and then the man was next to you, putting his arm around you and consoling you.  He didn’t tell you it was alright, that things were going to be okay.  He merely shushed your crying, patted your shoulder, and led you to sit on the bench.

You sat, staring at your hands.  “What happens now?” you finally asked, terrified of his answer.

He sat back, folding his hands in his lap.  “Well, you aren’t quite ready to leave this place yet.  You have unfinished business to do, whether you know it or not.  I was sent to give you your task, and then I will return when your task is over to take you where you need to go next.”

You looked to him with confusion.  “Unfinished business?” you repeated, wondering what it was.  “The Talbot Party?”

“Oh, no!” he said, laughing a low chuckle.  “The Talbot Party is – was – unimportant in the grand scheme of things.  Your binders full of notes will ensure that the party goes exactly as you planned, Bela Talbot donating the money she’d been ready to give you to a local hospital for research.   _That_  is not your unfinished business.”

You looked at the man, confusion and grief spilling through your veins.  What was he talking about and what were you supposed to do?

He seemed to read your mind and continued to speak, although his voice became more monotone and instructional.

“There is a man who lives in Huntington.  His name is Dean Winchester, and he owns his own autoshop.  He needs your help saving his autoshop and keeping his family together for the holidays.”

You racked your brain, trying to think of whether you knew this Dean Winchester or not.  Why would he be your unfinished business?

Once again, the man seemed to read your mind.

“You’ve never met Dean Winchester, but you were supposed to.  With your accident tonight, that meeting has been altered permanently, but it still needs to happen.  You need to go to him, help him.”  The man took a breath, looking very seriously at you.  “But there are rules.”

You sat up straighter. Rules and order you could deal with, even in this crazy situation.  “What are the rules, then?”

He stood, beginning to pace in front of you.  “You may not talk to any of the people who you have known, be it work, friends, or family. You will be completely on your own. You may not tell anyone about your accident.  If you contact anyone or tell anyone what happened to you, it will not be good.”

You were too afraid to ask exactly what would happen if you broke those rules.

“The final rule is that you must complete your business with Dean Winchester before Christmas Eve. That is when I will return, that is when things must be finished.  You have until December 24th to do all you can for Dean Winchester and his family.”

You nodded, mind whirring with a million questions.  How would you find him?  What did he need help with?  What family did he have?  Why an autoshop?

Before you could open your mouth to ask more questions, the man put two fingers to your forehead and a bright light filled your vision; you were unconscious once more.


	3. Chapter 3

This time when you came back to your senses, you weren’t laying on the ground in Central Park at night, but were sitting on a bench, more specifically a bus stop bench in the middle of the day.

You looked around yourself, getting your bearings.  You assumed that you were in Huntington – where else would you have been sent if not to fulfill your unfinished business?  You saw a street sign on the corner and saw the neighborhood label on top of it: Huntington it was.

You hadn’t ventured out to this suburb before, but saw that it was much like the others around New York. There were people milling about, making you wonder if any of them had seen you appear, or if you’d been seemingly sleeping until you just came to consciousness.  If you saw the man in the trench coat again, you’d have to ask him how you had gotten to Central Park and to Huntington without your knowledge.

You stood, smoothing down your clothes.  You noticed that while you still wore your coat that you’d had on in your car crash, you were now wearing jeans and a semi-casual blouse instead of your business attire. You figured that would be more practical, drawing less attention to yourself in the more laid-back atmosphere of the suburb.

Your hands went to your pockets of your coat, finding keys and a small notebook inside.  You looked at the key ring, seeing a plain silver key attached to a keyring with a dog on it.  As you looked closer, you realized that the dog looked just like your childhood dog, and the thought made you smile.

You turned your attention to the notebook, flipping it open.  Neat lettering was inside.

            _Winchester Auto Shop_

_Apartment: 156 Ashwood Lane, #304._

_Cell Phone: 212-555-9345_

_Remember the rules._

The rest of the notebook was empty, so you closed it after you’d flitted through the pages.  It went back into your pocket of your coat before you reached around to the back pocket of your jeans, realizing that you had a cell phone.  You turned it on, seeing that it had generic settings, before checking the number – it matched the number in the notebook.

You looked at the keys in your hand again.  Did that mean the apartment listed was what you should use as well?

You shook your head, storing the items back in your pockets before looking around once more.  You were sure that if anyone had been watching you, they would immediately think you were a crazy person.  Time to move, you figured.

You glanced around the street, seeing the rows of shops all around you.  Your eyes fell on the street corner, an old sign sporting the words “Winchester Auto Shop” letting you know exactly why you were here.

There was your unfinished business.

You began walking down the block and then across the street, approaching the doors of the garage’s office. You had no idea what you were going to say – you weren’t allowed to say anything about your previous life, according to your rules.

What would happen if you broke the rules, though?

You didn’t think you wanted to find out, so you thought to yourself for a moment.  You were supposed to save Dean Winchester and his shop, so they must be in some sort of trouble.  You just had to figure out what sort of trouble that was and what you could do for him. You approached the door, opening it and hearing the bells sound above your head.  You smiled as you looked around the small office, seeing that someone had decorated as best they could.

As you approached the desk, you took a guess at who that someone was.

A young girl, around eight, was sitting at the desk, books open in front of her.  She had long blonde hair and was wearing a red sweater. She looked very familiar to you, but you couldn’t place exactly when or where you’d seen her, so you tucked the feeling of familiarity away and smiled.

The girl looked up at you and sat straight in her chair.  “Welcome to Winchester Auto, how may I help you?”

The way she spoke made you giggle, her very small voice sounding so very professional and adult. “Well aren’t you a great worker?” you asked, making her smile and nod.  “I was just passing by…”

Oh, great, here was the part where you were going to have to make up a story.  You wished that you could tell the little girl about your mission, but even if she maybe wasn’t old enough to understand some of it, you heeded the trench-coat man’s words.  

“…and I saw your incredible decorations.  Did you do them yourself?”  You hoped that by talking with the girl you might be able to figure out what you were supposed to do around here.

The girl hopped out of her chair, nodding.  “Yes, my daddy let me decorate all by myself.  Come look!”

You followed her as she led you over to the small tree, which was sitting on a table to the side. “These are all ornaments that I made, look!”  You listened and nodded as she explained the ornaments to you, two for her, two for her daddy, two for Uncle Sammy.  When the tree had been explained, she moved over and told you about cutting out the snowflakes that were in the windows, talking about the different shapes she’d made.

You were so enraptured with the little girl’s explanations that you didn’t even notice the time passing. You were guided all around the little office space before she brought you back to the desk, telling you about the homework she was doing for school.

It was when you were going over Claire’s – you learned her name eventually, and gave her yours – math homework that the two of you were interrupted.

“Claire, what’s going on in here?”

Your eyes rose to see a man standing in the doorway that led to the garage and you felt butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter.  You’d never seen a man as handsome as this one, even with his grease-stained overalls and sweat-slick skin.

He had dirty blonde hair that was sticking up every which way, making it look as if he’d just gotten out of bed.  His face had a dusting of scruff, mature but still casual.  His green eyes were bright as they studied you and Claire sitting there together, a question in them.

“Daddy, this is Y/N!” Claire said excitedly as you put her homework page down on the desk and rose to greet him.  “She came in the shop a while ago and we’ve been talking and now she’s checking my homework, and daddy she’s  _much_  better at math than you are.”

The man chuckled at Claire’s words, eyes still fixed on you.  You blushed under his scrutiny, realizing that you’d been spending time with this man’s daughter without even meeting him first; you really hoped he wasn’t an overbearing, protective parent that would take offence to you, a stranger, talking with Claire.

Your nerves were relieved when he rubbed his hands with a cloth, getting the grease off of them before offering one to shake.  “Dean Winchester, nice to meet you.  It seems you’ve made a good impression on my Claire-bear, here.”

You nodded, taking his hand. It was calloused from years of hard work, making you shiver with something akin to arousal.  You pushed that feeling aside and answered him. “Y/N.  Sorry for intruding, but the moment I walked in Claire was talking ninety miles a minute and we just got caught up in everything.”

Dean laughed, nodding knowingly as he released your hand.  He walked around the desk, flipping the pages of a calendar as he spoke. “Don’t I know the feeling.  So, do you need to make an appointment – is your car here?  I can do pretty much anything, and have enough time to get it back to you before the holidays.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, a story coming to your mind.  “Oh, I uh, don’t have a car.”  Dean’s eyes jumped to yours, trepidation in them now that he didn’t know your motive for being at his autoshop, talking to his daughter.  “I actually am looking for some where to volunteer for the holidays, some people around pointed me your way.  I’m not looking for pay, just want to do what I can where I’m needed.”

Dean turned back to face you, arms crossing across his chest as he leaned on the table behind him. The way his body was situated made the muscles in his arms flex, drawing your attention for a moment too long to be appropriate.

“I’m not sure if…” Dean began, but Claire cut him off.

“Daddy, she can help!” Claire said, making Dean look at her with a hint of anger.

“Claire, we don’t need help,” Dean reprimanded through his teeth, but Claire was already shaking her head.

“No, Daddy.  Uncle Sammy said something needs to happen, and soon. Y/N is really awesome and smart and can do anything – plus, she’s a  _girl_. Girls are better at some things than boys, Daddy.”

You had to muffle the laugh that escaped at Claire’s statement, knowing the truth behind it. In your industry specifically, most successful planners were women, so if there was something that you could do to help, you’d do it.

You might have even wanted to without your unfinished business looming over your head, just because of how charming Claire had been and how attractive Dean was.

Dean sighed, wiping a hand over his face.  He looked back over at you, mind obviously whirring behind his eyes.

“Maybe there is something you can help us with,” he admitted, earning cheers from his daughter.


	4. Chapter 4

Your conversation with Dean was interrupted when a customer came in to pick up their car.  Dean led them to the back, completely in business mode and explaining different things to the man.  You watched him go, the overalls leaving more to the imagination than you’d like but giving you a great view of his bow-legged swagger.

Claire jumping back in front of you pulled your eyes away.

“Can we finish my homework now?” she asked sweetly, and there was no way that you could say no to that. The two of you took your places at the desk once more, Claire pulling out her reading work and you grabbing the math assignment.

You were nearly done when the bell on the door chimed, drawing both of your eyes.  “Uncle Sammy!” Claire said excitedly, hopping out of her chair and running toward the giant of a man that had just come in.  

“Hey, Claire-bear,” he said, ruffling her hair a bit as he wrapped an arm around her.  “What’s up?”

Uncle Sammy’s eyes were on you when he asked and you stood once more, ready to meet yet another person that you were probably going to have to fib to.  “This is Y/N, she’s better at math than Daddy.”

Sam laughed, heading over to you and offering his hand.  He stood a few inches taller than Dean had and his hands were that much bigger. “Nice to meet you, Uncle Sammy,” you said with a friendly smile.  

Sam shook his head. “Please, Sam.”

“Sam,” you confirmed, dropping his hand and feeling awkward once more.  

“Are you waiting for your car?” he asked, making conversation as he put down his briefcase on the desk, shuffling some papers around.

“Um, no,” you replied, stepping out of the way.  “I’m, uh…”

“She’s going to help Daddy and you with the shop!” Claire answered for you, drawing Sam’s eyes. “You should tell her, Daddy was going to but then he went to the back with Mr. Garth.”

Sam looked at you again and you shrugged.  “I’m around looking to volunteer for the holidays.  Claire thinks you two need a woman’s help with something around here, but that was as far as we got.”

The lie was a bit easier to give to Sam, and you wondered why that was.  Maybe because he didn’t make your stomach flutter with nerves like Dean did, or maybe it was just getting easier.  You weren’t sure, but Sam seemed to accept it and held out some papers.

“Dean’s going out of business if we don’t do something fast.  Like, we’ll close by the new year.”

Your eyes widened, looking at the finances in front of you.  You had some knowledge of financial legers like this, having to run all aspects of your event planning company including budgets.  Your eyes scanned the papers, seeing that Dean’s customer base had been steadily dropping and he’d recently moved one of his employees from full time to part time.

“You help with the finances?” you asked, sitting down and grabbing a pencil.  Sam made an affirmative noise, leaning over you as you jotted a few notes on some of the papers.  “How long has Winchester Auto been open for?”

“It was my dad’s business, Dean inherited it.  He’s had it for about 15 years now, since then I’ve helped with the business side of things.”

You nodded, grabbing a spiral from Claire’s school stuff and turning to a blank page.  “Well, you need to up your customer base.  There are a few options here, but most things that you do to grow your clients cost money.  We can do some stuff easy, but…”

You jotted some numbers down, looking around the office as an idea formed in your mind.  You couldn’t believe that  _this_ was what you could do for your unfinished business.

“We need to have a holiday fundraiser and party,” you announced, looking up at Sam.  His eyebrows were high, hesitancy in his eyes.

“Y/N, I appreciate you thinking about this, but there’s no way we can get something together for a fundraiser and party in just a couple weeks…”

“ _We_  may not be able to, but  _I_  sure as hell can,” you insisted.  “This is right up my alley.”

“What’s right up your alley?” Dean asked as he walked back into the room.  Once again he had a towel in his hands and you saw a car driving out of the driveway through the big windows.  He must have just finished up with his customer.

“We’re gonna have a party!” Claire exclaimed, obviously having been eavesdropping on your conversation with Sam and only catching on to the exciting thing in her mind.  Dean looked between Claire, Sam, and you, trying to follow.

“I told her about the shop, Dean,” Sam admitted, earning a sigh from Dean.  

“So we’re going to spend all the money we have left?” he questioned, obviously not understanding.

“No, Dean,” you said, standing.  “Fundraising, party planning – this is literally what I have done for a living for years.  I said earlier, I’m looking for somewhere to help out during the holiday season, it’s like I was  _meant_  to come here and help you.” You hoped saying that wouldn’t get you in trouble, so you kept going.  “I will organize, plan, decorate, recruit, all of it.  All you have to do is let me help you.”

Dean stood there for a moment, his mind going a hundred miles a minute.  You totally understood – you were a complete stranger and had walked into his life and his shop, insisting that you’d help turn his business around.  He probably thought you had some sort of ulterior motive (did getting an assignment from a mysterious man in a trench coat count as an ulterior motive?) and was trying to figure out if he could trust you or not.

Finally he spoke. “Okay, write me up some sort of plan and I’ll look at it.  I’m not promising anything, but if what you come up with makes sense, we’ll do it.”

“Yay!” Claire celebrated, jumping up and down in place a couple times before launching herself to hug your waist.  You laughed at her reaction, patting her back gently.

“That sounds fair to me. I’ll get a proposal put together for you.”  You and Dean looked to Sam, who nodded as well.

The decision made, you grabbed your coat, deciding to stop intruding on their family time.  “Do you mind if I come back in tomorrow?  It helps me get in the right headspace if I’m around my work.”

“Can she come hang out with me, Daddy, please?” Claire asked, pulling out a big, begging puppy-dog look.  Dean ruffled her hair, nodding.

“Sure, as long as you don’t get in my way,” he said, understandably.

You nodded.  “Of course, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, you headed out the door, walking down the street.  When you were a block away you stopped, taking a few deep breaths. Everything was settling into place, you had met Dean Winchester, gotten a plan together for helping him save his autoshop, putting your unfinished business into motion.  You pulled the notebook and phone out of your pocket, typing the address into the maps app.

The location was only a few blocks away, so you got there quickly, walking down the simple streets of Huntington.  An apartment building was in front of you when you stopped, so you got in the elevator and rode to the third floor, finding number 304 quickly.  The key on the ring opened the door and you stepped inside a simple studio apartment.

You sighed, locking the door behind you.  If this was what your life would be for the next few weeks, you could handle this. One day, one hour, one minute at a time.

When you collapsed on the bed you were asleep in seconds, body and mind exhausted from your day but dreams filled with a green-eyed mechanic.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days had you hanging out at Winchester Auto Shop, mostly sitting at the desk with Claire, her doing school work while you made plans and sketches.  You quickly measured the garage and determined that the best option available was to hold the party and fundraiser in the garage, as there would be no rental fees and you could easily do all of the decorating.

In between your sketches, your eyes constantly wandered toward the mechanic, watching through the doorway as he leaned over cars, taking them apart and carefully putting them back together.  You found yourself daydreaming more than once about what those hands would feel like on your skin, a blush forming on your face when you realized you were sitting next to his daughter with inappropriate thoughts running through your mind.

Through spending time with Claire, you found out that one of the Winchesters’ close family friends owned a bakery and you introduced yourself as soon as you could.  It may have helped that you brought Claire along, because when you first walked in to Ellen’s bakery, the older woman seemed skeptical.

“Auntie Ellen, Y/N is helping Daddy with a holiday fundraiser,” Claire explained, knowing a little bit more about what you were doing now that your planning was underway. You’d explained a few things to her as you sketched and made lists, making her even more excited for what was coming.  As soon as Claire mentioned you helping Dean, you adding a few pertinent details, Ellen softened up and the two of you made a nice deal.  

With the holidays all around, Ellen’s bakery was incredibly busy making many different types of desserts: cookies, brownies, cupcakes – you name it, she was baking it.

Through sweet talking, negotiation, and Ellen’s desperation to help Dean out in any way she could, you were going to pay her a fraction of the cost and take the extra sweets and test recipes she was making, as opposed to hiring her outright for brand new orders with different styles.  Ellen was happy to help, knowing that you were helping Dean.

Ellen was a huge help besides with the food, as well; she suggested you visit the other shops in the neighborhood to see who else would want to pitch in.  After talking with her for a very short amount of time, you realized that everyone loved Dean and had loved his father, too, and if you told people you were helping them host a holiday fundraiser for the autoshop, people were going to bend over backwards to lend a hand.

With a list of neighborhood friends and family, a holiday silent auction was soon organized, very little effort on your part.

People from all around the neighborhood donated items to the auction (for the small cost of advertising their businesses, of course).  You got gift cards to every single restaurant in the area, bundled with different food samples from each of those restaurants to entice people even more.  The antique store donated an old rocking chair, a beautiful thing that you knew would go for quite a bit of money.  The new yoga studio gifted a month of free classes, the dance studio offered a children’s birthday party certificate.  The quaint bed and breakfast offered a weekend getaway. It was an endless amount of donations that had you walking back and forth around the neighborhood, Dean’s storage room getting fuller and fuller with each donation.

Soon enough you knew that not only would you have a nice little silent auction organized, but everyone in the neighborhood would be sure to attend and support the party.  

Claire went with you for every visit, which was a great help seeing as she knew pretty much everyone. You learned from your visits that Dean had lived in the neighborhood since he was born and while his mother had gotten ill and died when he and Sam were just children, his father had raised them before he himself had gotten sick much later in life.  

Sam was already off in law school, leaving Dean to take care of his dad, and when John finally died everyone pitched in to help with Winchester Auto Shop, which had been John’s pride and joy. The story made your stomach clench in sadness for Dean’s troubled life, but everyone insisted that things were much better now.  

After a few days of work, you finally had everything organized enough to present to Dean your plans. You and Claire sat him down the third afternoon after you’d gotten started, laying out all of your drawings and lists and explaining the gameplan.  Dean listened through the entire pitch, looking through your lists of donated items and your sketches of how you wanted to decorate the garage.  You could have sworn you saw a twinkle in his eye at your sketch of his car front and center, the Impala the centerpiece of the party.

Finally you were done talking and you only had to wait for his decision, crossing your fingers discreetly behind the table.

If Dean didn’t want to accept your help and give the small, but necessary, monetary input to front the party, you had no idea what you’d do to help the shop and get through your unfinished business before Christmas.

“Okay, Y/N,” he finally said, eyes still on the papers in his hand.  “You really do know your stuff, I can admit that.  If this is truly your cost and the estimated income, it’s definitely worth it and I say let’s go for it.”

Claire cheered, bounding over to her father and wrapping her arms around his neck.  Dean laughed, hugging her back.

“Isn’t she wonderful, Daddy?” Claire asked, excitement in her voice.  “Y/N is so smart and everyone loves her and she’s super pretty, too.”

You blushed and looked away, unable to watch as Dean studied you.  “I hope you haven’t been too much trouble, Claire-bear,” Dean responded, instead of answering her questions and comments about you.  You were slightly disappointed to not hear Dean’s opinion, but you mentally chastised yourself.

You were not here to start a relationship with Dean Winchester, as handsome and charming as the man was, you were here to help save his autoshop.

“No trouble, Daddy, I promise!” Claire insisted, turning back to you.  “Right, Y/N?”

You looked back at the excited blonde girl, nodding at her.  “You’ve been very helpful, Claire.  I can tell how much everyone in the neighborhood loves you and your daddy,” you replied, seeing Dean’s shoulders relax at your statement.

“Everyone loves Daddy cause he’s so handsome,” Claire said, earning a teasing pinch on her arm.  You were surprised that you didn’t make an audible agreement to her statement, instead just agreeing mentally.

“You need to do your homework now, bear,” Dean said, scooting Claire back toward her chair at the desk and giving you one last glance.

“And Y/N,” Dean said before leaving, “I’d like to thank you for everything you’ve done already.  You didn’t have to stop in to my little shop and offer to volunteer here, that was all on your own.  And the way you and Claire have been the past few days, it’s been amazing.  Would you like to come have dinner with us, since you won’t let me pay you for your services for the party?”

You looked at Dean, seeing something just behind his eyes.  There was no way you could say no to this man.

“I’d love to.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next evening, instead of going home to your mysteriously acquired apartment a few blocks away and falling immediately into bed, you walked home with Dean and Claire.  Claire chatted your ear off the entire walk, breaking up any awkwardness that could have been there had it just been you and Dean.

You didn’t know what exactly it was, but you and Dean hadn’t gotten to the point of being comfortable around each other.  You could blame a few things – the secrets you were keeping from him, Claire constantly being there to occupy your time, your growing attraction to the man and inability to keep your heartbeat under control while you were around him – but you weren’t sure why he seemed uncomfortable.

You supposed it was for the best, as you were sure to be leaving after the party.

Immediately upon arriving at the Winchester’s apartment, Claire dragged you to see her room, very excited to have you in her space.  You spent about ten minutes in Claire’s room, getting a full tour of everything from her bookshelf to her closet.

Finally, you heard Dean in the kitchen, calling for Claire to stop hiding from her chores.  She gave you a dramatic eye roll before heading to the kitchen, you following behind her.

“Alright, Claire-bear, get your stool out,” Dean instructed, watching her grab a stepstool from beside the refrigerator as he finished peeling the potato in his hand.  “Y/N, I hope you like steak?”

You nodded, smiling at Dean. “Love it, thank you.”

Dean smiled back, his eyes lingering on you a bit longer than necessary before he slid a bowl in front of Claire.  He handed her a hand masher and dropped two potatoes into the bowl.  “Mash away,” he said, laughing a bit when Claire went to town on the potatoes.  Once Dean was satisfied that Claire was hard at work and not going to hurt herself, he turned to you.

“Want to make a salad?” he asked, obviously unsure if you would be open to the idea of helping cook when you were a guest.

“Of course, just point me to your veggies,” you replied, a smile settling on Dean’s face.  He opened the refrigerator and you were greeted with a healthy-looking food stock, one that surprised you slightly for a single dad and daughter household.  You grabbed what you wanted, bringing it all to the cutting board that Dean had set out for you.

The next half hour or so had you and Claire working on your tasks while Dean cooked the steaks, which had been marinating overnight.  It smelled delicious, and you were filled with a warmth at knowing that Dean was a chef.

In no time, the three of you were sitting at their dining room table, enjoying the delicious meal that you’d made together.  As usual, Claire dominated the conversation, but you and Dean talked as well, you offering a few small anecdotes of your life that you hoped wouldn’t get you into trouble from the man in the trench coat.

You noticed throughout dinner that Dean would look at you with a soft gaze, looking away quickly when you’d meet his eye.  It made you blush, the attention of such a handsome man, and you did your best to keep your somersaulting stomach under control.

After dinner, you could tell that Claire’s eyes were getting heavy.  “Alright, kiddo, time to wash up for bed,” Dean said in a stern voice, only having to raise his eyebrows once when Claire began to argue.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Claire said to you, giving you a hug before running off down the hallway to her room.

“I’m, ah, going to get her tucked in.  Just, hang out here?” Dean asked you, nerves seeping through his voice.

“I’ll be here, Dean,” you affirmed, making him smile at you before he followed Claire.  You stood, deciding that you could begin cleaning the table before Dean came back.  You had gotten all the dishes into the sink, rinsing them off carefully, when Dean appeared at your side with a bottle of beer.

“Drink?” he asked, looking hopeful.  So he didn’t want you to leave, apparently.

You nodded and took the bottle, leaving the dishes in the sink and following Dean into the living room. He busied himself with an old record player in the corner of the room so you wandered toward the mantle, looking at the pictures there.

Soft rock music filled the air and you recognized the record as Air Supply.  The music put a smile on your face and you took another sip of your beer.  Dean came across the room to join you, kneeling down to light the logs in the fireplace.

“You and Claire are so great together,” you commented, starting conversation on a topic you knew Dean would be proud of.  “She loves you very much.”

You picked up a picture from the mantle, one of Dean and Claire in a park.  The smile on both of their faces was contagious, you realized, your reflection in the glass smiling back.

“Yeah, she’s a great girl,” Dean replied, reaching for another picture frame.  “She’s not mine, though, not blood.”

You looked at Dean, surprise obvious on your face.  The topic had never come up while you were working on the party, this was personal to him and Claire.  He continued his explanation.  “My best friend growing up, Castiel, she’s his.”

Dean handed you the frame he’d picked up, your eyes drawn to the image.  Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the people in the picture.

Dean, a much younger Dean, had his arm around a man in a trench coat – the same man in the trench coat who you had met in the park, the same man who had sent you on your mission to help Dean Winchester and his autoshop as your unfinished business.

Luckily, Dean wasn’t looking at you as he continued his story, so he missed seeing your recognition and surprise.  “Cas was an incredible father, and I was – am – Claire’s godfather.  When she was just a little tyke, not even a year old, Cas and his wife Meg went out for a show in the city…. They were in a horrible accident and didn’t make it home.”

Your heart clenched at the story, eyes drawn to Dean’s face even though he was staring into the fire in front of him, not at you.  “I had promised Cas I’d take care of Claire-bear, so I adopted her.  There wasn’t any question about it, she just became mine.”

He took the picture frame from you and put it back in its place on the mantle, thumb swiping across the image gently before he turned away.  “It’s a blessing and a curse to have such a huge reminder of Cas in my life every day, but I wouldn’t give Claire up for anything.”

You followed Dean across the room to sit next to him on the couch, putting your beer bottle down. “It’s amazing of you to take her in, Dean.  It shows how strong your character is and how big your heart is, even if you don’t like to show it.”

Dean’s eyes found yours, vulnerability in them.  “I guess you’re right, Y/N,” he said simply, not looking away.  Time seemed to stop as you and Dean stared at one another, both of you leaning closer until you were sharing breath.

“Dean…” you whispered, terrified and thrilled at what was happening.  Instead of answering, Dean leaned the fraction of an inch to close the gap between you, his lips soft and plump against yours.  Any and all resolve broke as you leaned further into him, his hand cradling your cheek.

Dean angled your head so that he could deepen the kiss, his tongue caressing yours as your heartbeat sped up.  You’d never been kissed like this before, so much emotion and desperation involved, making it intense and incredible.  You lost yourself in Dean, in his smoky scent and lips tasting of the dinner you’d eaten and the beer you’d drunk.  He was intoxicating and you were sure to become addicted in no time.

Dean’s strong hands grasped at your shoulders before sliding down your back, pulling you closer to him. You followed his guidance, one of your legs falling across his lap.  You were about to move to straddle him on the couch when he broke the kiss to breathe, your name on his lips like a prayer.  “Y/N…”

That one word snapped you out of the spell you were in, making you pull away.  You couldn’t do this, you were going to leave soon.  Once the party was done, your unfinished business would be over and you’d be going on to wherever the man in the trench coat –  _Castiel_  – took you.

Dean had had enough hardship in his life, he didn’t need to get attached to you just to have you gone in a couple short weeks.

You stood quickly and abruptly, Dean following you to his feet.  “Y/N?” he asked, obviously confused at your actions.

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I need to go.  This has been wonderful, you’re wonderful,” you talked quickly as you reached for your coat, pulling it on and grabbing your purse.  “I’ll see you tomorrow at the shop, we’ve got a party to put on!”

Dean couldn’t get a word in as you headed for the door, stopping you only when your hand was on the knob.  “Did I do something?  Too fast? I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said, trying to understand why you had a sudden change of attitude.

You sighed, turning to him. “No, Dean, you are perfect.  Too perfect.”

You could see the confusion in Dean’s eyes as you said those words, unable to explain to him why you couldn’t stay.  “See you tomorrow,” you murmured before opening the door, walking away from the man who you might be falling for.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days went by so fast that you didn’t even have any time to think about the (incredible) kisses you had shared with Dean.  You were in warp speed with the fundraiser, staying out of Dean’s way during his normal business hours as much as possible so that he didn’t lose any money while you were concurrently decorating and preparing the garage for the event.

When the day finally came, you knew it was going to be incredible.  Dean had the shop closed for the first time in years, letting you put finishing touches around the garage to make it presentable.  You hid the uncleanable tools and set up the silent auction tables and items, parking Dean’s beautiful 1967 Impala in the middle as a centerpiece of conversation before the doors were opened to the public.

Dean’s branding was everywhere, the list of services available for all to see with an added emphasis on restoring and remodeling classic cars, something that you learned Dean had a passion for but had never been able to promote correctly.  You were sure that this party would be a time for him to get the word out, so you made sure to include that on all of the information available.

As you expected, everyone in the neighborhood came to support.  You had sent invitations out to the neighborhood association and other, larger businesses in the area as well, so many corporate people came to see what the fuss was about, too.

You spent most of the evening working, flitting from one side of the room to the other making sure that Ellen’s food was constantly replenished while simultaneously monitoring the silent auction.  You were surprised you didn’t have to ghost bid on anything, as each and every item was valued enough that people invested their time during the party to check the bids.

By the end of the night, Dean had raised over a hundred thousand dollars and gained at least twenty new clients – some people who wanted a more personalized autoshop to go to and a few who others had classic cars.  You had to admit, Baby did a lot of work sitting there looking pretty for all the people who came.  You even overheard a few businessmen trying to buy her, but Dean let them down easily. No one was going to buy his Baby from him, no matter their price.

After Dean’s short thank you speech to the crowd (which you had written the basics of for him) and the last few party-goers were leaving, Sam came over to find you.

“This was absolutely incredible, Y/N,” he gushed, pulling you into a side hug and squeezing your shoulder in thanks.  “You have definitely done amazing work, I just don’t understand how you got all of this together in such little time.”

You shrugged, smiling at him.  “All in a day’s work, Sam.  It was easy, the shop just needed a little love and it sells itself.”

Sam nodded, watching you as if he saw something in you that you didn’t.  “Well, thank you so much.  This means a lot to us, a lot to Dean.”

You nodded, eyes drawn to the man across the room who was still engaged in conversation with a man in a suit – you hoped he was gaining yet another client.  “I just did what I could.”

The clean-up went quickly, as most of the food was gone and everyone had taken their silent auction items. Sam took Claire home to put her to bed, the little girl falling asleep in his arms as he carried her out the door. Soon enough, it was just you and Dean left in the shop, the air around you heavy with emotion.

You were folding tablecloths, planning on leaving them somewhere for Dean to use in the future when his hand on your arm made you freeze.

“Y/N, I can’t thank you enough,” he started as you turned toward him.  He was so close to you that you could feel his warmth, making you want to lean into him.  “Would you join me for a drive?  I have something I want to show you.”

You nodded, grabbing your jacket and getting into his car, staying quiet as he pulled away.  He pointed the car toward the city, the drive easy on the late night.  It reminded you slightly of that night a couple weeks ago when you’d been driving home…

There was a feeling in your gut, a feeling that you were finished with your task.  It was a feeling that seemed to be pulling you somewhere, but you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You must have zoned out because the next thing you knew, Dean was parking on the north side of Central Park.  He fed the meter quickly before grabbing your hand, your heart jumping at the contact. He led you to the line of horse-drawn sleighs, paying quickly before helping you up into one of them.

There were heavy, warm blankets drawn across your laps and you let Dean pull you into his body, his arm tight around your shoulders.  Your heart beat rapidly at the closeness, a yearning in you that made you want to just stay in his arms forever.  For a while, the two of you sat quietly, enjoying the views of the park during Christmas and each other’s presence.  Once you’d been riding for about ten minutes, Dean spoke.

“I’m going to have to bring Claire back to do this again, it’s a bit of a holiday tradition for us,” Dean commented, looking down at you.  Your faces were close, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “I just thought it would be nice to have a ride with you for a bit, too.  A thank you, if you will.”

You nodded, unable to speak, especially once Dean’s lips covered yours.  The kiss was just as incredible as the first one that you’d shared in his living room, this one also filled with gratitude.  Dean’s hands cupped your face, keeping you close to him.

You let him kiss you, unwilling to stop him.  This felt right, this was everything you could ever want.  You didn’t want to leave soon, you tried to ignore the pull in your belly that told you that you couldn’t stay.

Finally Dean released you, pulling you impossibly closer to him underneath the blanket.  He fished his phone from his pocket.  “Claire and I were in the city not too long ago, during the first snow of the year.  She was so excited, she nearly fell over in the street as she spun around in circles…”

Dean showed you a picture on his phone, a picture of the little girl in the red coat, snow-white scarf spinning around her.  A picture of Claire, who you had seen on the street the night of your accident.  You gasped, wondering how your life had ended up here.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, worried at your reaction.  You shook your head, tears coming to your eyes.  You looked out of the sleigh and into the park, eyes widening again.

The man in the trench coat, Castiel,  _Claire’s dad_ , was standing there in the park, watching you patiently with his hands in his pockets.

You sat up, pulling away from Dean.  This was it, this was your sign.  You couldn’t let Dean know what was going on with you – if you even began to tell him, he’d think you were crazy.  You looked back at him, seeing the confusion, worry, and a twinge of hurt in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry,” you said to him before turning to the driver.  “Stop the sleigh!”

Immediately the driver pulled on his reigns, making the horses come to a stop.  You stood, piling the blanket onto Dean’s lap.  You began to climb down the small ladder, pausing for just a moment to say a final thing to Dean.

“You and Claire have been so wonderful to me the past couple weeks.  I will never forget you, Dean Winchester.”

With that final statement, you jumped the rest of the way to the street, turning and running into the park. Dean called after you, but you couldn’t look back.  If you looked back, you knew it would all be over.

Castiel was waiting for you, his hand extended.  With very little hesitation, you took it and disappeared.


	8. Chapter 8

When Dean got back to his house that night, Sam was sleeping lightly in the living room, having promised to watch Claire for the evening.  The door slammed harder than Dean meant for it to, waking Sam immediately.

“Wha-?” Sam asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  He looked around, seeing Dean’s upset face and no sign of you.  “Where’s Y/N, what happened?”

Dean sent Sam a glare, the silent message clear.  “She ran off on me, for the second time.  Literally stopped the sleigh mid-ride, apologized, and ran off into the park.  I went after her, but it was like she’d just disappeared…”

Dean went for his whiskey cart, pouring himself a healthy amount and knocking it back.  “I don’t know what the deal is, man.  She’s done all this stuff for me, for the shop…for Claire. There have been so many times I’ve looked at her, caught her looking at me…I’ve felt things I hadn’t before.  I thought, after tonight, she might stick around.”

Dean sat heavily on the couch, putting his head in his hands.  Sam watched him closely, having no idea what to say to his brother to make him feel better.  

“I’m sorry, man. Maybe you can call her tomorrow?” he asked, trying to help.

“Her phone’s disconnected,” Dean immediately replied.  He pulled out his cell and called your number, putting it on speakerphone.

“ _The number you are trying to reach has been disconn-_ “ the computerized voice said before Dean hit the end button.  Sam stared at the phone, unable to understand what was happening.

“I’m sorry, man,” was all he could repeat, clapping his brother on the shoulder.  “I’m gonna crash in the guest room, let me know if you need anything.”

Dean just grunted, not moving from the couch.

In fact, he didn’t move from the couch all night, falling asleep with the whiskey tumbler in his hand.

Sam made breakfast the next morning, the smell of bacon and eggs waking Claire up.  He must have said something to Claire before Dean woke as well, because the girl was abnormally quiet through the meal.

“Dean, do you need anything else?” Sam asked, not having anything to do for the day and wanting to help Dean however he could.  Dean shrugged, leaving the table and getting back to the couch, pulling his laptop out.

Without thinking, he typed your name into the search engine, pressing enter before he could think of what he was looking for.  Maybe your email address, a different phone number?

Before he could think of any other options, a news headline at the top of the first page caught his eye.

> _Y/N Y/L/N, LOCAL EVENT PLANNER, IN A COMA AFTER CAR CRASH –_
> 
> _NEW YORK CEO BELA TALBOT DONATES THOUSANDS TO HOSPITAL IN Y/L/N’S NAME_

“What the hell…” Dean mumbled to himself, clicking on the article.  A large image of you, dressed up at a fundraiser and looking beautiful, popped up on the news page.  Dean stared at the image for a moment, confirming that it really was you, before reading the article.  

It mentioned your history, discussed your newly formed event planning company, interviewed Bela Talbot briefly.  The article mentioned that you were driving home late one night when your car got t-boned in an intersection, then explained that you had been in a coma at the hospital ever since.

Dean scrolled back up to look for the date – it was dated two weeks earlier, the day before you showed up in his shop.

“Sam….” Dean called, unable to process what he’d just found.  Sam ran in to the living room, hearing the urgency in his brother’s voice.

“What’s wrong?” Sam immediately asked, looking at Dean with worry.  Instead of answering, Dean handed Sam the computer, watching as his brother read the news story.

“I don’t understand…” Sam said, scrolling back and forth.  “This is Y/N,  _our_  Y/N, right?  But she’s been in a coma for two weeks?”

Dean stood abruptly, heading for the bathroom.  “Get Claire ready to go, we have a hospital room to visit.”

In less than fifteen minutes, the three of them were piled into Dean’s Impala, headed for the hospital. Claire didn’t quite know what was happening, as Dean didn’t want to explain to her what he didn’t yet understand. She sat in the backseat quietly, watching the world go by out the windows.

Sam was quiet as well, his mind whirring a thousand miles an hour.  He knew better than anyone how much his brother liked Y/N, he’d never seen Dean like this about anyone.  Sam liked Y/N, he liked her a lot, and he really hoped there was an explanation for the coma.

Dean parked at the hospital, motioning for Sam to wait with Claire while he went ahead.  He walked straight up to the desk and got the attention of a nurse.

“I’m here to see Y/N Y/L/N, she’s in a coma,” he said, no nonsense in his voice even if his stomach was clenching with nerves.

“And you are?” the nurse asked, not looking at Dean but searching the clipboard.

“Boyfriend,” Dean answered simply, hoping that was a good enough answer.  The woman looked up at Dean over the rim of her glasses, seeing the stress and worry on his face and believing him immediately.

“She’s in room 2203,” she said, motioning to a door to her right.  “She’s still sleeping, but you may go in and see her.”

Dean nodded, thanking the nurse quickly before heading through the door, taking the steps two at a time.  He was mumbling the room number under his breath as he walked down the hallway, finally finding the door.

He froze outside of it, unsure of what he was going in to.  Was this going to be the Y/N he’d gotten to know over the past two weeks, the one who pulled off a holiday party and fundraiser for his autoshop for free, the one who he was falling for much too quickly?  Or was this some elaborate ruse, one that he was going to be humiliated by?

He had to know.

His hand turned the knob slowly so he wouldn’t disturb anyone in the room.  It was a silly thought, really, as you were in a coma and wouldn’t even notice him there.

There was no one else in the room, only a lone hospital bed.  Sure enough, as Dean took a few steps inside, he saw that it was you. You looked as though you were only sleeping, except for the fact that there were tubes in your nose and mouth and a heart monitor next to your bed that beeped every few seconds.

Dean took a few steps toward you, unsure of what to do.  He looked around the room, pulling a chair up to your bedside and settling into it, pulling your hand into his.

“What is going on, Y/N?” he asked you, wishing desperately that you could answer all of his questions.

After sitting by your side for a half hour, just staring at your face and hoping that you would wake to tell him it was all a ploy, Dean called Sam’s cell and told him your room number.  In just a few minutes Sam and Claire were also in the room, confusion clouding the girl’s face.

“What’s wrong with Y/N, Daddy?” she asked, but Dean just shook his head.  He didn’t know the answers to tell her, so he didn’t say a word.

The day passed quickly but too slowly, Dean unable to leave your bedside.  A few times during the day, doctors and nurses came in to the room, surprised to see that you had visitors.  No one except for the rich CEO Bela Talbot had been by to see you, and that was only for her to drop off a donation check to the hospital.

Sam went on food runs, getting lunch and dinner for Dean as he didn’t want to leave your side. Eventually it was dark outside and a nurse came in to tell them visiting hours were over.

Dean nodded, standing and reaching for Claire’s hand once more.  “Daddy, is Y/N going to be okay?” she asked softly, making Dean sigh.

“I don’t know sweetie,” Dean answered, leading Claire out of the room with one final glance at your face.

It was in the parking lot on the way to the car that Claire stopped, pointing to the sky.  “Look, a shooting star!  We should make a Christmas wish, for Y/N!”

Dean looked up, barely able to see the stars with the lights of the city, but hoping Claire had truly seen the shooting star.

_I wish Y/N would wake up and come back to us._


	9. Chapter 9

Dean made it a habit to come see you at the hospital every day, especially with it being so close to Christmas.  It might not have been normal for Dean to close early the week before holidays, but he began the habit with you in mind.  With the number of customers you’d gained him at the party and the cushion of money you’d raised, he didn’t feel bad about working half-days if it meant he could see you.

Dean realized quickly how much he’d come to enjoy your company since you’d first showed up at his shop, becoming a staple in his life.  He talked with you, even if you weren’t going to talk back, telling you everything that he hadn’t said before because he was too scared.

Dean told you about growing up with Castiel, about how happy he was when Cas and Meg got married.  He told you about being at the hospital when Claire was born – that was actually the last time he’d been at a hospital before coming to visit you now.

Dean talked about the day that Cas and Meg had died, how heartbroken he’d been but determined to make sure Claire had a full and happy life.  He kept those emotional conversations to times when it was just you and him, not wanting Sam or Claire to see him tear up.

The doctors finally opened up to Dean, even though he wasn’t a direct relative, telling him that they didn’t know what was causing your coma but that they were doing everything they could to keep you comfortable.  All they could do at this point was wait to see if you woke up, which meant Dean found himself praying for the first time in his life.

He still didn’t understand how you’d been in a coma the whole time he’d known you, but he didn’t care anymore.  All Dean wanted was for you to wake up and be okay.

Claire soon stopped asking questions about you, realizing that both Dean and Sam didn’t have the answers she was searching for.  

By the Saturday before Christmas, Dean was emotionally exhausted.  Sam and Claire left him alone in the room with you for a few hours, coming back later with arms full of boxes.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, looking between his brother and adopted daughter.

“If you’re going to spend Christmas here with Y/N, Daddy, we’re going to bring Christmas to you!” Claire said excitedly, putting her (much smaller) box on the floor next to Sam’s. Sam opened the large box, pulling out parts of a Christmas tree.

“I found the tree I used to put up in my dorm room, thought we could decorate it in here, make it feel a little less hospital-y and little more festive,” Sam explained, looking to Dean for approval before he did anything else.

Dean looked to where you were laying on the bed and he couldn’t deny it – the room was awfully dreary for it only being a couple days until Christmas.  “Alright, let’s get decorating.”

Claire began unpacking her box, putting little red bows all about the room with scotch tape.  “Not as good as Y/N’s decorating, but I’m getting better!” she said happily, pulling a teddy bear dressed up as Santa Claus out of her box.  She tucked the bear into your arms so that it looked like you were holding it, making an awfully cute picture if it weren’t for the fact that you were in a coma.

Sam plugged in the lights on his miniature Christmas tree, putting it in the center of the table by the window.  “Come on, Claire-bear, time for ornaments!” he said with as much excitement as he could muster, meeting Dean’s slightly sad eyes over her head.

The two brothers watched as Claire decorated the tree, being extra meticulous about where she placed the ornaments based on where she thought you would want them.  Finally, she put the angel on top of the tree, looking at it with pride.

“That’s much better, Daddy. Now when Y/N wakes up, she’ll know it’s Christmas.”

Dean pulled Claire into his side, hugging her to gain comfort as much as he was giving comfort. “I think it’s perfect, Claire-bear,” he said sadly, looking at the tree.

Little did the Winchesters know, but you were standing in the doorway watching with a sad look on your face as well, Castiel by your side.

* * *

The night of Christmas Eve arrived, and still you weren’t awake.  Dean had become so attached to your bedside that Sam was worried for his brother, afraid that you’d never wake up and Dean would spiral downward into a place none of them wanted him to go.  After dinner, Dean insisted that Sam take Claire home, wanting her to be asleep in bed for when Santa came.

When Claire was ready to go, thoughts of Santa exciting her to go home, Sam paused in the door.

“Will  _Santa_  be coming home tonight to put out the gifts, or should Santa’s brother take care of it?”

Dean looked over at Sam, knowing exactly what his brother worried about.  He sighed heavily.  “Yes, Santa will be coming home.  I just need a bit longer here.”

Sam nodded, pulling the door closed behind him and leaving Dean in the room alone with you.  He immediately grabbed your hand, holding it between two of his own.

“Y/N, I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore,” Dean said, talking to your unresponsive form. “Until you came along, I thought I had everything under control – granted, the shop was having some trouble, but I knew I’d pull through.”

Dean’s thumb began tracing patterns on the back of your hand and his eyes followed the movement. “Then you came along and turned my world upside down.  Even before you – before we found out you were here, you were rocking my normal.  I don’t know…”

A single tear slipped from Dean’s eye and fell down his cheek.  He sniffed once before he kept speaking.  

“I fell in love with you, Y/N, and now you’re just…gone.”

On the other side of the room, you gasped.  You turned to look up at Castiel, the two of you invisible to everyone around you. You’d spent the past few days watching Dean, Sam, and Claire in your hospital room, seeing how much time and energy they’d put in to visiting you and decorating your room.  It was more than you ever would have imagined, but you didn’t know what you could do to fix it.

“Castiel,” you said, your hand landing on his coat.  “What can I do?”

Castiel’s eyes were locked on Dean, his best friend in life.  He’d never seen Dean cry, never heard Dean utter those words to anyone, even his own family.  The fact that Dean just admitted to your prone body that he loved you…

“Y/N, this was never in the plan,” Castiel said without emotion, trying to keep to his job.  “You were successful in your task; you saved Dean Winchester, his family, and his business.  I do not fully understand why we are even still here, as we should have both moved on by now.”

Your eyes widened, realizing that he meant you were supposed to be dead.  “Castiel, I can’t leave them, I can’t leave him now.  You heard what he said, I haven’t saved anyone, I’ve only just begun!”

Castiel looked at you then, a recognition forming on his face.

“Oh, Y/N.  I see now what is to be done.”

You waited for Castiel to elaborate, holding your breath.

“You now have a choice, Y/N. You may go to heaven and live in everlasting peace, leaving this world and all of its hardships and woes…”

Castiel looked back at your body on the bed, Dean’s hands still holding yours tightly.  “Or you may stay on earth and live with the people you love, the people who love you.”

Castiel’s eyes found yours a final time.  “It is your choice, Y/N, but you may only make it once.”

You looked to Dean, feeling as if you had no choice at all.  A bright light formed around you before all was black once more.


	10. Chapter 10

Monitors were beeping in your ears and you tried to take in a deep breath, choking on the dryness of your throat.  Strong hands helped you sit up as a loud voice yelled something that you couldn’t make out.

When your eyes opened, everything was too bright and it took you a minute to focus.  You blinked rapidly until finally you were able to see, your eyes finding bright green in a handsome face.

“Dean…” you croaked, coughing before repeating yourself.  “Dean, I’m so sorry!”

Dean laughed, a relieved sound before he wrapped his arms around you, his body shaking with emotion. “Y/N, you’re awake!”

That was all that could be said before there were doctors and nurses surrounding you, forcing Dean away from your bedside.  Your eyes never left his, however, and you watched as he slumped against the wall across the room, relief and happiness in his face.

It took a few hours, but the doctors finally admitted that they had no idea what had happened.  You couldn’t tell them about your time between the crash and waking up, as you were sure that they would deem you mentally unstable.  Dean didn’t mention anything either, only watching from across the room until all the tests were run.

Near to midnight, they cleared you to be released from the hospital, as long as you had someone who could watch and care for you in the next three days to be sure you stayed strong and healthy.

“I’m not leaving her side,” was Dean’s immediate response, making you smile.

The doctors seemed satisfied with that answer, letting you sign the rest of the paperwork and wheeling you out of the hospital.  Without words, you let Dean lead you to the Impala, climbing in and settling in for the ride.

Dean took you to his apartment, lights off and house quiet as Claire and Sam were both already sleeping. You didn’t question anything as Dean led you to his bedroom, giving you a moment of privacy in the bathroom before he put you to bed.

“Give me just a few and I’ll be back,” he whispered to you, kissing your forehead before he went back out into the living room.  You were asleep before he returned.

Morning came faster than you or Dean expected, but you were awoken to sounds of glee from Claire in the living room.  Dean’s arm was around your waist under the sheets and he squeezed you as he stretched, a sigh of relief leaving him as soon as he realized you were still there.

“I don’t understand…” he started to say, but you cut him off with a swift kiss.

“I’ll explain everything, but I don’t know if I even believe it,” you said.  “But right now, I think there’s a little girl in there who should enjoy her Christmas morning.”

Dean nodded, getting out of bed.  “Want to be the best Christmas present she’s ever gotten?” he asked, smile on his face. You grinned, nodding.

“Give me five minutes,” he whispered before slipping out of the room.  You heard as Claire squealed her glee again over Santa’s presents to Dean, hearing Sam’s booming laugh as well.  You got up while they spoke, heading to the door so that you could listen to the conversation.

“I have one last gift from Santa as well,” Dean was saying, so you silently opened the door.  “I didn’t think it would happen, but there was some Christmas Magic happening around us when Santa came last night.”

You took the few paces from Dean’s bedroom door to the living room, stepping up beside him.  “Merry Christmas, Claire-bear,” you said, tears coming to your face as she screamed even louder than before.  You had your arms full of little girl in seconds, hugging her back as tightly as she was hugging you.

Sam’s face was one of shock, and you couldn’t blame him.  You smiled his way over Claire’s head before you all finally sat down, the three Winchesters looking at you expectantly.

As briefly as you could, you explained what had happened to you over the past three weeks.  You talked to them about the car crash, about the man in the trench coat, about your unfinished business.  You watched Dean tense up slightly at the fact that he was your assignment, but then you opened up even further, telling them about how much their little family had come to mean to you and he relaxed.  You still didn’t understand why any of it happened to you, but the mention of Castiel had all of them tearing up.

“Your dad was a great man, Claire-bear, and he’s incredibly proud of you,” you said to Claire before turning to Dean.  “And he’s proud of you, too.”

Dean nodded, tears in his eyes.

“Well, I have one last thing before we all start crying…” Dean said, standing and turning to the mantle. He grabbed something from behind the picture of him and Castiel, tucking it into his hand.

“Y/N, you came into our lives and flipped our worlds upside down.  You and Claire are so wonderful together, I’ve never seen her take to anyone as quickly as she took to you.  You saved my shop, you saved me.  When I saw you in that hospital bed, it was like my world had come crashing down around me.  I can’t imagine my life without you, and never want to see it that way ever again.”

Dean kneeled down on the floor in front of you, holding his hand out, beautiful silver band glimmering in the light of the room.

“I know it’s fast, but I can’t wait any longer.  Christmas Magic brought us together for a reason, and I’m going to put my trust in that magic.  Y/N, will you marry me?”

You didn’t know when they started, but tears were streaming down your face as you nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you!”

The brightest smile fell on Dean’s face as he jumped up, pulling you up with him.  He kissed you with enthusiasm, holding your face between his hands before he let you go to slide the ring on your finger.

“Best Christmas present ever,” you breathed, unable to fathom how drastically your life had changed, all because of a car crash at Christmas.


End file.
